I didn’t know I wasn’t normal until I was five. Until then I thought I was funny, I thought I was popular. I’d tell a joke, people would laugh. I’d make a rude noise, people would laugh. I’d pull a face, people would laugh. But then I realised they’d still be laughing even when I’d stopped. They’d laugh when I spoke. They’d laugh when I walked into a room. They’d laugh when I cried.
I looked in the mirror then. I let my eyes explore my face. I had a nose, two eyes and lips hiding some teeth. Not so different really. Except my lips didn’t cover my teeth, and my nose was off centre, and one eye wouldn’t open like the other.
Mum said it was a dog bite. That I hadn’t even been one and I wouldn’t remember.
True; but I still feel the pain.
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